With a Little T.L.C. (4 page)

“You cold?” he asked.

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Not after Mr. Toad's Wild Ride in that car with the top down. And I meant that in a good way.”

“Which part? The wild ride? Or Mr. Toad?” he asked wryly.

“Let me just say, nice car. Really, really nice,” she finished, glancing over her shoulder to look at it with an exaggerated sigh.

Joe loved his sporty red convertible. But he couldn't tell whether she really meant what she'd said, or if there was subtle criticism in her voice.

“I like it,” he said cautiously.

She peeked over her shoulder again. “No back seat. That's good news and bad.”

“How's that?” he asked. He liked the fact that Liz kept him on his toes, always wondering what she would say. What zinger would she lob his way? And how would he defend himself?

“Well, the good news is that car is a babe magnet.”

“If one were looking to attract ‘babes.”'

She studied him. “Isn't that what playboys do?”

There was the zinger. And he suspected his best defense was offhandedness. “I wouldn't know.”

“Well if you didn't write the whole thing, I'd bet you contributed at least a chapter to the how-to book for bachelors on the make.”

On the make? Defending himself for something he'd done was one thing. But she had him all wrong. For some reason he didn't have a clue about, she'd pegged him in a negative light from the day he'd walked into her office. It was time to find out what had tied her stethoscope in a knot.

“And why would you think that?” he asked.

“You fit the profile.”

“What does that mean?”

“You're good-looking, smart, and you have a great job.”

“Thank you.”

“Observation, not compliment.” She sipped her soda. “Those attributes are a triple whammy. Women must swarm all over you.”

“You make me sound like the bait for a roach motel.”

She laughed. “Just remember the insect image is yours, not mine. But seriously, you would have to be stupid not to play the field.”

If she was bitchy or nasty, he could get mad and fight down and dirty. But her manner was conversational. Light and breezy. This was one for the books—Nurse Ratchett with overtones of Tinkerbell. Her good nature was infectious even while she was tossing verbal barbs his way. She'd lobbed him so many backhanded compliments, he felt like a tennis player. How could he defend himself against that?

He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose you could describe me as relationship challenged,” he said. “I prefer that to stupid.”

“So being relationship challenged has set in since Trish Hudson?”

Joe remembered his short acquaintance with the nurse. Something about her had put him off and he'd ended things with her in a straightforward way. “What about her?”

“Didn't you date?”

“We went out a couple times,” he answered carefully.

“What happened?” Liz seemed tense, as if she was ready to pounce on his response.

He was no stranger to the need for diplomacy in employee relations. Liz and Trish worked in the same hospital. Just because he'd ended things on account of the negative vibes she'd given off, there was no need to spread that to her co-workers. “Things just didn't work out,” he finally said.

“So that's what you call it?” she asked, an edge to her voice.

“What?” he asked, honestly at a loss.

“Never mind.” She stared at the water for a few moments before asking, “Relationship challenged? Does that mean you don't fool around?” she asked skeptically.

“I used to. Not anymore.”

“And you don't flirt?”

“Flirt is a relative term. I'm a people person. Friendly. It's a management style. An asset for the Human Resources Director of Marchetti's, Inc.”

“There are assets, and then there are assets. In your
position, you get to scope out the territory right off the bat.”

“What does that mean?” he asked sharply.

“You can check out every new female employee.”

“Red light,” he said, shaking his head. “No way. It's my job to make sure that kind of thing
doesn't
happen. We stop short of restricting employee fraternization. But it's strongly discouraged.”

“That could explain why you're a volunteer.”

He wondered what she meant by that—nothing good probably. Watching her for a moment, he tried to figure out why he cared whether or not she thought badly of him.

Tamping down his annoyance he said, “Does the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover' mean anything to you?”

“Have you ever heard ‘if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it must be a duck'?” He stared at her for a few moments and she said, “What?”

“I'm just trying to figure out when I quacked or waddled. What behavior have I exhibited to make you think so poorly of me?”

“The very first time I met you, you were trying to impress me with your charm.”

“And you nearly ripped my ear off. Apparently my technique could use some fine tuning. Or I need a brush-up course.”

She shook her head. “Don't waste your time on my account. I'm immune.”

No kidding, he thought. The question was why?

He wiped his hands on a napkin. “Turnabout is fair play and I've been getting a grilling that would do the CIA proud. Let me ask you something.”

“Fair enough. Shoot,” she said, chewing contentedly.

“How long have you been divorced?”

She almost choked. “What makes you think that?”

“You have a chip on your shoulder the size of Texas. You camouflage it pretty well with humor. But you've got some baggage, lady.”

Her eyes widened, and he expected her to dispute his words. But she only said, “Thankfully it wasn't a nasty divorce. One would have to be married first.” She fiddled with her sandwich wrapping. “I'm proud to say, I've never had that pleasure. I'm single and satisfied and plan to stay that way.”

“Then someone dumped on you.”

“You think? What was your first clue?”

“Because you're wary. Of men. You don't get that way without some help. And I'm paying the price for what some other guy did.”

He knew he'd hit close to the mark when she looked away. Watching her profile, he could see her jaw clench.

“I'm not wary of men,” she finally said. “I just have a problem with the ones who don't play by the rules.”

“And you think I fall into that category?”

“The first time we met you threatened to pick me up bodily and lock me in the broom closet. If I recall correctly, your exact words were that visiting hours were for everyone but you.”

“I was kidding about the broom closet.”

“I know. But not about breaking the rules.”

“Cut me some slack, Nurse Ratchett. My baby sister had just had a baby. First one in the family. I wanted to spend some time with her.”

“And you think you're the only new uncle who feels that way? Picture what would happen if everyone acted the way you did.”

“The obstetrics wing would be full of lots of happy uncles.”

“Probably. Followed quickly by anarchy and chaos.” She shook her head. “Not on my watch. Mothers and babies at risk? Completely unacceptable. It's my job to keep order.”

Joe couldn't help admiring the fact that she took her job seriously. Protecting new mothers and babies. Patients in her care were lucky. He had a feeling anyone she cared about would be lucky. But there was a protective shield around her, emotionally speaking, and he wondered why she worked so hard at keeping it in place.

“The fact that I'm volunteering at the hospital does nothing to alter your opinion of me?”

“It would if I didn't get the feeling that on the heels of your good deed was a rule waiting to be broken. Or a skirt waiting to be chased, so to speak.”

“Why would you think that?”

“By the time I'd met you twice, you were coming on to three different women.” She held up her hand and started counting on her fingers. “There was the blonde I saw you with when you visited your sister in the hospital, Trish Hudson, and Abby, the woman you practically stood up because you got sidetracked scoping out the volunteer program.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘benefit of the doubt'?” he asked wryly.

“Yes. But I can't help feeling that you don't know the meaning of the word longevity or sincerity. And your heart is a revolving door. I'm sorry, but based
on what I've seen it's hard for me to believe your motivation is anything but self-serving.”

Joe considered himself a pretty easygoing guy. From the moment he'd walked into her office, he'd taken it in the shorts from Nurse Ratchett without fighting back. No more Mr. Nice Guy. It was time to set the record straight.

He rolled his sandwich wrapping into a ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then he turned to Liz.

“All right,” he said seriously. “You win. I'll tell you my ulterior motive.”

L
iz couldn't believe she'd heard him right. “You're going to tell the truth?”

“Yeah.”

Blow his cover? Come clean so soon? She couldn't imagine why he would do that. But then what harm could it do? No doubt there were females at the hospital just as anxious to meet him as he was to meet them. She only wanted honesty from him. Although for some men that was too much to ask.

But what if she was wrong? What if he'd already told her the truth? His motivation
might
have something to do with wanting to help. But he wouldn't turn his back on the opportunity to meet a woman. After all, Sam had given him the speech about the program.

“It's Samantha, isn't it?” she asked.

“Samantha?”

“She's a tall redhead. It's understandable that you would want to get to know her better. Although why
you'd go to all the trouble of volunteering is beyond me. A simple phone call would suffice. As a matter of fact, why didn't you take
her
to lunch? You're slipping, Slick. Missed a golden opportunity there—” She realized he hadn't said a word. He was just watching her run off at the mouth.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“I can be.”

“Good. Because you're way off base.”

“Am I?” she asked warily.

“Number one, I genuinely want to give a little time to the hospital as a volunteer for the reasons I told you. And for the fact that my sister and my niece received wonderful care. Not to mention my grandmother when she was there for tests.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Number two, and here's the good part.”

He half turned toward her looking intensely serious, which was very cute. But he also had an earnest expression, so full of an emotion she'd accused him of not having—sincerity. It nearly convinced her that he would tell her the truth.

“I've been thinking about something for a while,” he said. “And this is work related.”

“What?” she asked, sipping her soda.

“On-site child care for restaurant employees in every location.”

He looked dead serious. She stared at him. “Say again.”

“It's my job to be a liaison between management and the employees. To me there's more involved than staffing and monitoring benefits. One of the biggest problems I see is child care. Finding reliable, affordable, trustworthy help is tough.”

“You could have hired a company to check this out for you.”

He shook his head. “Marchetti's is a family-owned business. A good part of our success is directly related to hands-on managing. This is my ‘baby.' Pardon the pun.”

Liz took off her sunglasses and looked at him. Was it possible that her first impression of Joe Marchetti was wrong? Could it be that he wasn't the shallow philanderer she'd taken him for? But what about Trish and the way he'd used her?

“What do you hope to accomplish by observing a hospital newborn nursery?” she asked.

“For one thing, it will give me some idea whether or not on-site care is feasible for infants. I'm not sure we can provide that much help.”

“But it's such an important stage.”

“I know. It's a bonding time for mothers and babies.”

“You've done your homework.” When the compliment earned her an attractive grin, her heart skipped a beat. But she managed another question. “So what happens after you critique our facility?”

Liz found that she was warming to the idea. Even if he was fabricating the whole thing, the fact that he had given the subject so much thought elevated him in her eyes.

“I need to observe different child-care environments to see if we can furnish adequate attention for such a broad age range. Once they start kindergarten, the parents have more choices. Schools have programs in place for supervision.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Wow.”

“What?”

“You really
have
done your homework. This is an important issue. Not just for your company, but everywhere. With the economic climate what it is, very often it takes two paychecks to support a family.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “A high percentage of our employees are women. The lucky ones have family to look after the kids. But we lose way too many skilled and dedicated workers because they can't find dependable, affordable nurturing people to watch their children. I already told you about my secretary.”

She nodded. “We have the same problem at the hospital.”

“It's a domino effect. The babysitter doesn't show up. Someone doesn't come to work because they can't leave their children unattended. I sympathize, but I have a business to run.” He studied her a moment. “In your business inadequate staffing could mean life and death.”

“A long shot. But, worst case scenario, definitely possible,” she agreed.

In his enthusiasm he angled his body toward her, causing their legs to brush. The contact sent a wave of warmth crashing through her. His excitement wasn't all she'd noticed. And his boyish appeal was making it harder not to go there—to that place where she
liked
him. Before she could do that there had to be trust. That wasn't going to happen.

“I've been reading up on the pros as well as the cons of child care,” he said.

“What have you found?” she asked, pleased that her voice sounded relatively normal.

“Leaving a baby or young child with someone other than a parent doesn't have to be a negative. They can learn to interact with people other than their
parents in a positive way. Very often other adults have something to offer a child that can make them a more well-rounded individual. They become accustomed to others and less shy.”

“I'm impressed, Joe.”

“Really?”

His pleased smile set off a chain reaction within her that was one part fear, three parts surrender. This was unacceptable.

“You bet,” she said. “When you set out to do something, you really scope out your objective.”

His grin slipped. “What does that mean?”

“Whatever your real purpose for volunteering, you've put major time and effort into it. Most guys aren't so imaginative. ‘What's your sign' is as creative as they get.”

As soon as the words were out she wanted to call them back. He didn't deserve that.

“Now I see.”

She didn't know what he saw, but it didn't make him want to do the dance of joy. Her words had extinguished the warmth and passionate animation from his eyes. The coldness there made her shiver. It also made her sad. Just a moment ago his lips were smiling and full—so much so that she couldn't help wondering if they would be warm and soft against her own. Now his mouth pulled tight. Tense. Angry.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“You still think I'm on the make.”

She didn't bother to deny it. Game playing wasn't her style. She'd learned to hate it. “It's a reasonable assumption.”

“Because I'm single, good-looking and I have a
great job.” His voice was even deeper than usual, with an edge that clued her in to his annoyance.

“You're the complete opposite of our customary volunteer. If you were in my position, wouldn't you be skeptical?”

He let out a long breath. “For the record, I'm not interested in dating. I gave it up. It's an exercise in futility. And a colossal waste of time. I have better things to do than spend awkward evenings with someone only to find out it will never amount to anything.”

He looked awfully sincere. There was that word again. Liz wondered if she should give him the benefit of the doubt. She shook her head. Even if all the evidence wasn't stacked against him, she couldn't let herself believe. It was too hard when she was wrong.

Liz stood. “The bottom line is that what
I
think about you doesn't matter. You've signed up to volunteer in my program. As long as you show up for your shift and conduct yourself in a manner that won't jeopardize the babies or the program, whatever else you do is irrelevant to me.”

“Fair enough,” he said, standing, too. “If you're finished eating, I'll take you back to the hospital now.”

Oddly enough she didn't want to go back to the hospital. But it was probably for the best, Liz thought a little sadly.

 

“What are you doing here, Joe?” Flo Marchetti looked at her second son as if he had two heads.

“I can't stop by to say hello to my favorite mother?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She stood and turned her back on the flat of plants
as she removed her gardening gloves. She was tall, silver-haired, and he couldn't help thinking the years had been kind to her. She was still a very attractive woman and he understood how she'd kept his father interested for so many years. That thought gave him an odd feeling, as if something bad had happened, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Weird, he thought, shaking his head to dispel the sensation.

Sliding her sunglasses to the top of her head, Flo peered intently at him. “What's your problem?”

Brunette. About five foot two, one-hundred-and-five pounds, hazel eyes. Name Elizabeth Anderson. But that wasn't for general publication. His run-in with her had made him edgy and restless—he hadn't been able to face his empty condo. So he'd stopped by to see the folks.

“Where's Dad?” he asked, glancing toward the house.

“Golfing with Nick and Steve. They called you for a foursome, but you weren't home. Where have you been?”

Orienting for the cuddlers program. Something else he didn't want to put out for general publication. So he just said, “Driving. To the beach.”

“Girl trouble.” She clucked sympathetically.

So much for keeping secrets from his mother. “For Pete's sake, Ma. Why do you jump to that conclusion based on what I just told you?”

“I'm right. You asked a question instead of denying it. I'm glad.”

“That I have girl trouble?”

“See?” She pointed her gardening trowel at him. “I knew I was right.”

“That's not what I said. I can't believe you're so happy that I could have problems.”

“Relationship concerns. There's a difference.”

“And you think that I have a problem with a woman?” He would go to his grave without telling her she was right.

“I know so. And I'm not happy about it. Not exactly,” she added.

“What does that mean?”

She sat down on the lounge beside the pool and motioned for him to sit on the matching chaise across from her. “You're my son. I love you. I'd scratch out the eyes of any woman who hurt you. But—”

“Go on,” he prompted. He was going to be sorry for this, he knew. But for some reason he needed to hear what she had to say.

“Well, you're not getting any younger. Nice—unattached—girls in your age group are getting harder to find.”

He thought about Liz, the fact that she'd never married. And, as his mother so bluntly put it, she was in the appropriate age bracket. Which meant she wasn't getting any younger either.

“I'm not looking, Ma.”

“Good.”

“Good?” he asked, puzzled. “That's not some kind of reverse psychology stuff, is it?”

“Of course not. That would never work on you. It simply means that when you're not looking for it, love is more likely to find you.”

“No really. I mean it. I have no intention of getting serious about anyone.”

“And why's that?” she asked.

“You and Dad.”

“What about your father and I?” she asked sharply.

He stared at her. Her reaction seemed out of proportion to his comment. “I just meant you two are so perfect together. I wouldn't want to make a mistake.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, dear. It's not the end of the world. You have to get over that.” She looked at him. “Rosie took the marriage plunge. And Nick found Abby right under his nose. They would be married now if she wasn't so set on a June wedding. In a few weeks Abby will be Mrs. Nick Marchetti.” She sighed. “I can't wait for the wedding. Do you have a date yet?”

She was like a bloodhound, focused on the scent of her prey. He shook his head. “Ma, don't you ever get tired of meddling?”

Flo sighed as she shook her head. “You don't have a date. I hate to be the one to tell you this, Joey. But you can't wait much longer. You'll be too old to, you know—do the wild thing.”

There was that “you know” again. He preferred that euphemism to his mother's. If that's what this was all about, it would be easy. Liz was right about women throwing themselves at him. But he was looking for—what? The perfect woman? He knew she didn't exist. A perfect relationship? Ditto.

“Ma, it's just not as easy now as it was when you and Dad got hitched.”

“You think it was easy then?” she asked. There was that unfamiliar sharpness in her tone again.

“For you and Dad? Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Almost everyone I know from high school has been married and divorced at least once. Some more than that. I see single mothers every day, strug
gling to keep it together. Not to mention the dads paying child support and seeing their kids every other weekend.” He shook his head. “Not me. I've decided to stay unattached rather than wind up a statistic of failure.”

“One thing never changes. If you want something to be successful, you work at it. You don't give up.”

“Or don't try at all.”

She pointed her trowel at him again. “I didn't raise cowards, Joseph Paul Marchetti.”

Uh oh. When she used all three of his names, it was time to change the subject.

“So when did the guys decide to go golfing?”

“This morning. That reminds me. Where were you so early?”

For some reason, he didn't want her or anyone to know about the cuddling program. She would start matchmaking—jumping to wrong conclusions. Not unlike a certain cute nurse he was trying to get out of his mind. And if his brothers found out, there would be no peace. It was best to keep this to himself.